Of Sirens and Sparrows
by spotted.paw
Summary: This is no explicit fanfic, but rather an "inspired by". If you want to read good characters, not all canon, though, this is the place to be. It's about Hal (Jack's brother) and his relationship to who presumably is Jack's daughter (Marvel's Pearl).
1. The Brightest Jewel of Tortuga

Of Sirens and Sparrows 

_**Note: **This is a story I'm writing together with Marvel, who was so kind and let me play in her pirate universe. We actually wrote most of this for my fic Honor Bright, but now found it is deserving of an own tale. The first two chapters I have online as part of Honor Bright at the moment, but I will remove them from the story because they just don't fit there. But they're good, which is why I'm creating this story. It is about the relationship of Hal Sparrow, Jack's younger brother, to the girl Pearl, whom all people know as Jack's daughter._

_More about Pearl can be found under the nickname of Marvel in the stories "Pearl", "Braving the Flames" and "The Oldest Story in the Book"._

_Unless otherwise indicated I am the author of the chapter. We are writing together, though, inspiring each other, correcting our character's actions in what the other is writing. Basically I'm writing Hal, and Marvel writes the characters of Pearl and her mother Diamond._

_Now this is two or three years before the flogging that is the theme of Honor Bright and A Little Sparrow, Jack and Hal are Captain and respectively First Mate on the Black Pearl, and they just dropped anchor off Tortuga._

**Chapter 1**

The Brightest Jewel in Tortuga 

"To the Pearl." Barbossa toasts.

"To the Black Pearl, and the sea."

I smile. I always drink to the sea. I owe her. Barbossa clinks his cup against mine.

"Now let's see how this peculiar green stuff tastes!"

He knocks back his shot of absinthe, and almost chokes on it. I laugh.

"The trick is to soak some sugar in it, and light the sugar. If you then set the drink aflame, it burns some of the alcohol. But you get used to it eventually."

I take a sip. Feel it heat up on my tongue.

"Look here, Barbossa."

I bring forth a little bag, containing a spoon and pieces of sugar. I soak one of the pieces in absinthe, and set it on fire. After a little while, melting sugar drips into the green alcohol. I stir, and thereby light up the absinthe, but only for a moment, then I extinguish the dark blue flame with a quick blow.

"Try it now."

He takes a sip, and chokes again.

"Maybe I'll just stick with the rum." He spits.

I laugh, and take the drink back from him. He just embraces a bottle of rum and leans closer to me to go on with his story.

After some time, hours maybe, I lost my sense of time with all that green liquor in my blood, I look over to Jack, who has fallen asleep on the table. Oh well. He will not need a girl to keep him company tonight. Overestimated the effectiveness of the absinthe just the slightest little bit, did you, dear brother. God knows I would be dead had I drunk so much of it has he just did. I will take him back to the ship so he can get some sleep.

"Alright. I will take our dear Captain back to the Pearl. I'll see you tomorrow, Barbossa. Thanks for the drink, and thanks for the good talk."

"Wait, Hal.", he says, his words heavy with rum, "Just one more thing. Tell me, if you leave, will I become first mate on the Black Pearl?"

I'm laughing. He has to be really drunk to ask me a question like this. Who would actually want to be Jack's first mate? He is not mad enough, certainly.

"You're drunk, Barbossa, and I'm not leaving. So don't get your hopes up. You'll have to kill me to take my place, and if you kill me, Jack will kill you and somebody else will be first mate. Which is not the most desirable position in the world, if I may add."

Barbossa laughs, and I leave, with Jack's arm around my shoulders.

In the cabin, I help him to lay down on the bed. He opens shiny eyes on me and presents me with the glassiest look in the history of mankind. Then he cups my face in his hands.

"Hal?"

Jack sighs, and I grimace at the strong odor of alcohol rushing out of his mouth to meet me.

"Aye, Jack?"

He plants a kiss right on my lips.

"I luv ya. This much … ." And he indicates a size of almost a katana length with his hands.

I smile and wipe saliva from my mouth. Tuck the blanket tightly around Jack's shoulders.

"I know, Captain Sparrow."

Then I take his coat from the floor and blow out the candle.

"Sweet dreams, brother." At least as sweet as the absinthe will allow.

And I am off, to get back to shore, to town, to finally meet Diamond. God I missed her.

-

When I enter the _Dancing Maiden_, I let my hair fall into my face. No fuss this time. I don't want to be Captain Sparrow's brother for once, let me just be a paying customer today. I wonder how long it will take her this time, to figure out who it is, Jack, or me. The game we have been playing for years.

And there she is, Diamond. Wiping a table. And I admire her perfect shape in the fabric tight around her. And I have to concentrate hard not to just grab her. And drag her into a dark corner right now.

Okay. Take it easy. This is still a long night. Go for the game first.

So I approach Diamond quietly from behind. Watch her for a while. Now what is wrong with her? She doesn't notice me at all. That's not like Diamond. I tilt my head a bit. I hope it's just weariness. Maybe I can cheer her up a little. And in case she really is that exhausted, I'll present her with a free night, if she will just allow me to be tired with her. In her arms. I really need to sleep. And it just is so much easier when the arms wrapped around me are not Jack's. Not to mention his snoring.

Whoa. Now there is a considerable amount of absinthe in me. My mind is wandering through the room. Focus now.

And I wrap my arms around her waist tightly. Her movement ceases immediately and I feel her resisting for a moment. I know she wouldn't allow this sort of treatment, save when it is for gaming with Jack. And I know that after a split second she already knows this is the invitation to the old game. Let's see how quick she figures one sparrow from the other today. I smile, and lick my lips.

"Hello Diamond." I say, and I almost laugh at myself for failing so bravely to mimic Jack's speech.

God, it has been too long. Say farewell to my countenance with this beautiful wench, her body firmly against mine. I suppress a moan. How many months on sea?

Deep breath.

Too many months. Too many dreams. Too many lonely nights. Too many fantasies. Too many dirty stories told amongst the crew.

I want you.

Now.

I lean even closer, forward, to feel her soft skin with my lips. Just a little bit of my tongue on her neck.

God, your taste couldn't be better. Your smell is perfect. You are. Perfect.

I feel her hair on my ear, on my cheekbones. Her hands place themselves over mine, her fingers folded, intermingling with my own. She leans backwards, against me.

"Hello Hal."

I have to smile on that. Didn't take you a long time. Well, I didn't make it extremely difficult. I search my way down her shoulder with my lips.

Can we please go upstairs now?

She turns around to me now, and I back up a little, to marvel at her beauty. Her clear gaze meets mine, and I realize she sizes me up with just the same affection.

Now she looks over my shoulder. No, Jack isn't here. He's sleeping it off in our cabin.

"Where's your brother? Surely he hasn't gotten his neck into the noose already?"

She smiles at me brightly. The joke about pirate necks in nooses makes the hair on my arms stand up. I don't like the thought of Jack in combination with a noose. But I know she doesn't mean any harm by it. Diamond's mind isn't surrounded by the dark clouds that always hang about me. Although she has as much reasons to be gloomy. I envy her for her light spirits. And for once, I want to be lighthearted, too, today. So I smile at her, as brightly as I am able.

"No, he's not dead just yet. He just said he was in a blond mood tonight."

He would prefer her to think he was enjoying himself, rather than preparing for the most terrible hangover tomorrow. And in fact he said he was in a blond mood, some time before he passed out. She wouldn't be jealous, was he with another gal. But she would tease him about spending his first night on shore in months – all alone in his cabin, with naught but the liquor in his blood.

"And what mood might the present Mr. Sparrow be in tonight?"

While she asks, her smile swinging with her tone as she speaks, she moves forward and her hips meet mine.

God. I do want you.

Hal, breathe.

"Nothing less than the brightest jewel in Tortuga will do for me tonight," I say and thank whoever is watching over me and prevents me from babbling complete nonsense in this moment when I actually just want to tear her clothes from her.

"I want nothing less than Diamonds."

And I want them right here.

She smiles at me and I know she sees clearly how much I am working to keep up my calm façade. And she loves to make it difficult for me, for she moves to embrace me tightly, pressing her sweet lips to mine. I feel her tongue slipping into my mouth, slowly. Delicate and soft. I pull her closer. Wrapping my arms around her tight, I bury my fingers in her hair while my other hand travels down her back. Diamond pushes against me even more.

Love to tease me, do you. Evil woman. One more second and I'll do you here on the table and I don't care about the whole tavern watching and cheering.

All of a sudden she pulls back and slaps me across the cheek. Stuns me for a second, but I realize that if she really had wanted to hit me, it would hurt more. At least the pain has brought the heat inside me down a little.

Yes, now you are teasing me, nasty wench.

Diamond turns her back on me and folds her arms in front of her. Now what are we playing, Lady Diamond. I put one hand on my cheek and try to mimic the hurt lover, but I can't help smiling at her.

"Diamonds indeed," she scolds me over her shoulder. "You stopped for a drink before coming for me, Master Sparrow." And she turns up her nose on me.

Oh, so that is it. Not used to me spending my nights out in Tortuga drinking, and without you, are you. Too much like Jack maybe.

But I'll join in your game anyway.

So I move to meet her gaze and drop to a knee whilst taking one of her hands in mine.

"Sincerest apologies, Lady Diamond. Barbossa owed me a drink. I had to take the opportunity, else that scoundrel might have taken the chance to cheat me of it."

She still refuses to look at me. I grin all the more and begin to softly caress her hand for her to open it.

"Please allow me to make it up to you." I bring Diamond's hand to my mouth and kiss the palm softly.

"I hope you intend to do better than that."

She tosses her hair back over her shoulder. You are an actress, Lady Diamond. I get up from the tavern floor again. Well, I still have an ace in my pocket. Or rather, Jack's coat's pocket.

"Indeed I do, Milady."

I reach into the pocket and bring forth the ring with the huge ruby on it. Ah, now she moves to give me her undivided attention again. Not that I had lost it, in all the playing.

"Will this buy your forgiveness?"

And while I slip the ring onto her fingers, I give her the sweetest puppy face I am able to bring forth.

And now let's go upstairs, please. I put my arms back around her waist and move close again, smelling her, feeling her. God, I am losing control. Please, Diamond. Now.

"You shouldn't have."

She gasps, and she really seems to like the ring.

"I can't keep it, you know. I truly wish I could, it is beautiful, but the coin I could get ... ."

"I know."

I don't need to hear it, because I know, and I understand, so I put one finger to her lips. Let's just pretend we were in some other situation and you could simply accept a present like this from an honest man. I clasp her hand tightly, to feel her soft skin and the cool metal of the ring on her finger. Some other place, some other life.

I move the finger from her lips under her chin, bringing her beautiful face full into the candlelight. Her eyes sparkle at me, but I see some gloom in them. Poor woman. Life hasn't been easy on you lately. I hold her gaze.

"But it's worth it, to see it on your finger, even once."

So much is true, Milady. It is worth it.

When I say this, I behold strong Diamond melting suddenly, very unlike her, very unprofessionally, but ever so heartwarmingly on me. I lean closer to kiss her.

She is different. She is more to me than the other girls I've met allover the world, in the harbors of the seven seas. If it wasn't for my urgent need to bury my face in her neckline, to seal her lips with mine, to rip her dress open, I would say she is almost a sister to me.

She pushes me away slightly, and I see she is blushing. Oh my, what an evil spirit must I be for this woman, struggling so hard to keep up a professional attitude and I spoil it all. I'm sorry, I didn't want to be as greedy as that, but … God, it has really been this very long time.

"You are, Lady Diamond, far more deserving of praise or pretty words than any blushing bride."


	2. By a Fair Margin

_**Note:** This was written by Marvel and is the same scene, just from the point of view of Diamond. The first part follows the same actions, but in her mind, providing a different insight. If you aren't interested in reading it again, go to the paragraph after the three , that's where we actually advance the plot. _

**Chapter 2**

By a Fair Margin 

Strong arms wrap themselves around my waist, and I pause. I don't take kindly to being manhandled, and my reputation would tell the men in this tavern that much. There are few enough I would accept this sort of treatment from, and my heart speeds as I suspect just who it may be. Hope it may be, because I haven't been paying attention. If someone truly dangerous had come in the crowd in the tavern would have withdrawn. Curse my distraction! Such things can get you killed in this town.

A long lock of twisted hair brushes my cheek, and I take a deep breath. No danger here. Hal or Jack then. My heart speeds further. I close my eyes. This is an old game with the three of us. Few people in this world can tell Hal from Jack without a close look. It confounds Jack that I can tell the difference with my eyes closed, and thrills Hal. The fact that he isn't gnawing on my neck makes me suspect Hal, as Jack can seldom keep from devouring me, but Jack knows enough about how his brother treats me that this may be a calculated move.

„Hello Diamond."

The voice is deep, rough with lust. Been a while, has it?

Good. It's been far too long since you were here.

Hal then, I know instantly. The voice is deeper, a touch rougher than Jack's, lacking the sing-song quality Jack can't leave off his words however hard he tries. His brother is far more straightforward, thank the heavens. Jack is fun, but there are days when I prefer the ever-truthful, sweet-souled Hal. Lips descend on my neck.

I sigh deeply, bite back a groan. Oh, hang tired, suddenly I can't wait to work.

„Hello Hal."

I feel him smile against my neck as he trails down onto my shoulder. I can't have any more of this. I am a prostitute here, and with no deal yet made I should be the one in control. Not that I'm worried over it. Hal always pays considerably better than he should, and refuses to take back what he doesn't owe. I wonder, sometimes, what sort of penance the man feels he is paying. Does he know about our daughter? Certainly not. He's been doing it far too long. I'm probably happier without the answer. The man is morose by nature, mostly over things he has no fault or control in.

I turn within the circle of his arms. He pulls back to look into my eyes and I grin. Oh, the boy is handsome. A lesser woman would be disarmed by him immediately. Not that he'd notice, humble as he is. And in the end it's that which has been my undoing. The clouds that hang over this man seem to be temporarily lifted. He's in a playful mood tonight. Rare as that is, I grin in appreciation.

I look over his shoulder, expecting to find Jack standing here holding a tankard and grinning, but his equally handsome face eludes me. I turn questioning eyes to Hal.

„Where's your brother? Surely he hasn't gotten his neck into the noose already?"

I smile, knowing I'm safe with the joke. If Jack were dead Hal would be weeping into a bucket of that horrid liquor he drinks, asking where the nearest cliff that could send him to his death was. I don't fear jealousy in him either. Jelousy is for lesser men who don't understand one another well as these two do.

Hal smiles. That smile can light rooms. It chases the last of the clouds as have been hanging around me from my thoughts. It's been far too long since he last visited.

„No, he's not dead just yet. I left him in another tavern. He said he was in a blond mood tonight."

I smile. Bless Hal for knowing he needn't worry about my jealousy. I'm a woman of Tortuga, and Jack's left me Hal for entertainment. I'll see him tomorrow night. If he had only one night here I know he'd have come to me.

„And what mood might the present Mr. Sparrow be in tonight?" I ask, pressing my hips into his, grinning in satisfaction as his breath hitches just slightly.

„Nothing less than the brightest jewel in Tortuga will do for me tonight," he says. „I want nothing but Diamonds."

I grin. Hal has his brother's charm, that's for certain. For a moment I almost forget that I'm selling my wares. I can't think of anything as fine to say to him in return so I wrap my arms around his neck and settle for rising to my toes to plunder his mouth.

He tastes of the lightest touch of salt, as if the brine is so deep in him it even comes through here. It mixes with the spice of Hal's unique taste. The bitter tang of alcohol hits me after a moment.

I pull back at that, hardly pausing a moment before slapping him across the cheek. It's a light slap. I know how to hit a man, and nothing about this says more than me teasing him. Still, I step roughly back out of his arms and turn my back to him, crossing my arms over my bust. He rubs at the injured cheek, eyes sparkling as they regard me, waiting for me to make my move.

„Diamonds indeed," I sniff over my shoulder. „You stopped for a drink before coming for me, Master Sparrow."

I remain there, nose in the air, totally ignoring him. A few men look up hopefully, anxious to catch my attention if my current plans fall through.

I know they'll be disappointed, but Hal is going to have to earn it. He comes around in front of me, grinning. Lord, that mouth should be stricken from this world. Nothing less then angels should have lips like that, much less a man.

He draws close, and I turn my head away from him. „Sincerest apologies, Mistress Diamond. Barbossa owed me a drink. I didn't wish to give him the opportunity to cheat me of it." I sniff in distain. „Here, allow me to make it up to you."

I watch him from the corner of my eye as he untucks one of my hands, caressing it open. He raises it to his lips, kisses the palm.

„I hope you intend to do better than that," I inform him with a toss of my hair and tug lightly on the captured collection of digits. He doesn't let go.

„Indeed I do." He's still grinning. Raising a hand a ring appears in his fingers.

He has my whole attention now. It's beautiful. I've never seen a ruby that big in my life, sparkling with inner fire even in the meager light.

„Will this buy your forgiveness, Diamond?"

Without waiting for my answer he slips it onto my hand, watching me stare at it. He draws close as I examine it, wrapping his arms back around my waist.

-

„You shouldn't have," I breathe.

He's too close like this. I can smell the salt on his skin and the spice of his scent. I look down to admire the ring because I can't look into his chocolate eyes right now without melting.

„I can't keep it, you know. I truly wish I could, it is beautiful, but the coin I could get..."

He silences me with a finger on my lips.

„I know."

He's reclaimed my hand, rubbing the ring and finger in one. The finger on my lips turns, hooking under my chin to tilt my head up.

„But it's worth it, to see in on your finger, even once."

And I meet his eyes, and I do melt, in that moment. His lips descend on mine and when he pulls back I'm breathless in a way I haven't been in years. I feel my face heat. I'm blushing like some bride on her wedding night! The things these men do to me. It's his fault. Pretty words aren't meant for the likes of me.

„You're far more deserving of ‚pretty words' than any blushing bride."

I look up at him, eyes widening. Did I say that aloud? I certainly hope I did. If Hal's learned to read minds I'm doomed for certain.

„You should get something more to drink," I suggest, trying to push out of the prison of his arms.

He holds me, quirking one eyebrow at me. I smile at the look. Usually when he gets me this worked up I drag him into the nearest dark corner quickly as possible.

„I haven't said good night to my children," I explain. „They shall be in soon, and heaven only knows what trouble they will get into tonight if I don't warn them against it."

Hal's eyebrows dip down just slightly, but he shrugs and releases me. Just like that I've returned the gloom that usually hangs over this man. A lesser woman wouldn't notice, but I know him far too well. No matter. I will dispel it soon enough with my not inconsiderable talents. The man has never been much for children. They confound him. But he understands that there's something more to it, and some of us have need of that, so he goes to the bar and orders a drink. I follow him to an empty table and sit in his lap when he takes a chair.

„I'm sorry."

I finger the collar of his shirt, resisting the urge to stroke the tanned expance of chest he's revealed by leaving it open, showing off his tattoos. Resist the urge to trace the ink with my fingers. No point in getting us both worked up when we can't sate that need just yet. Still, he has such beautiful skin, so soft and smooth for a pirate. Even tanned and brine-beaten, I'd take Hal's chest over silk any day. Much warmer and softer. I watch the red light from the ring paint the white cotton and expanse of chest. It looks like blood. I pull quickly back.

„They will be in soon, I promise."

Hal smiles, but there's no light to it. Compared to his previous smile it's positively frigid. I don't worry over it too much. He's an endlessly patient man.

„How are they?" he asks because he feels he should, not because he cares, I know. I promise myself to keep it short.

„Well."

„Both of them?"

„Three," I correct. „I had another. A girl."

„How old?"

„Three now. She's been around when you were here, but I guess the opportunity to meet her just never presented itself. She's a bit of a wild one."

„How is your son?"

„Growing. He wants to be a pirate."

Hal smiles, that half-hearted twist of the lips again. I decide a change of subject is in order.

„So where did my ring come from?"

„Spanish treasure galleon."

My eyebrows rise. „Quite a find."

„That's why we're here."

„Pearl!"

He looks up at the name of his ship screamed in the tavern. Truth be told I didn't give her that name solely because it was my grandmother's. I liked the idea of it catching her father's ear. It would appear I've succeeded, even when it comes from a boy's lips. So what has my daughter done now?

She bounds up to me, hardly pausing before climbing into my lap. Hal shifts uncomfortably, and I know it isn't the weight troubling him. She sits in my lap, regarding Hal for a moment before turning her full attention on me.

She's used to her mother in men's arms. Not ordinarily men this pretty, but Pearl takes such things in stride. She'll break the most handsome of hearts one day.

My other two children approach as Pearl settles herself.

„Is all well?" I ask as Hal studies his drink, completely ignoring the object of his discomfort in my lap.

„Well enough," Ruby answers with a glare at Pearl.

„What did you do?" I ask, lifting the girl's chin so she has to look at me.

„Nothing." She is the picture of innocence.

„It's no large thing, Mother," my son puts in, thrusting out his hip to show off the sword. I let it go, for Hal's sake. Best get rid of them quickly.

„All right. I want you all in bed by dawn."

The children scream, but I ignore it.

„No arguing. I'll be cross if you aren't every one sound asleep come morning. Understood?"

They all nod. „Good. Pearl, do as your sister tells you. Go."

She hops off. Just like that they scamper from the room.

„So what do you think?" I ask Hal, wrapping an arm around his neck as he drains his drink, tracing a twisted tattoo on his shoulder.

„He will make a good pirate. I will tell you when I know a ship for him."

I roll my eyes. Hal can be blind as a bat when he chooses to be. Pearl's age and eyes have completely escaped him.

„And my girls?"

„Will be pretty as their mother when they're grown. I like the small one's name."

„Glad you approve."

I wait for him to take another swig of his alcohol. I lean close to his ear.

„She's your daughter."

He doesn't choke. Doesn't breath at all, in fact. He freezes, stock still, going completely stiff. I pull away to look at him. His eyes are wide and there's something there in their depths I've never seen before. Terror. My heart clenches. I shouldn't have told him. Oh, if only I could take the words back. I never thought ... .

„Hal, it's all right."

No response.

„Hal?"

I take his head in my hands turning his eyes up to me.

„Hal, dear, you need to breathe."

He swallows several times before his chest finally rises and falls.

„Hal? Are you all right?"

He swallows again. „What do you want me to say?"

„Nothing. You don't have to say anything, Hal. I just, I know who her father is. It seemed unfair if he didn't. I'm sorry. Please don't let it trouble you."

„But, are you certain? I mean, Jack..."

I nod. „It's possible, but the dates favor you by a fair margin."

„How fair?"

I shrug. „Fair enough."

He blinks hard. „I don't...Diamond, I don't know anything about children. I don't do well with them."

„How many children have you been around?" I ask.

He blinks again. His breathing picks up, pulling an erratic pace. Oh, I never should have told him. I should have known better.

„It doesn't matter. We don't either of us want anything from you."

„Does she know?"

„She knows that I know who her father is. She doesn't know it's you."

The breathing calms a little.

„Listen, Hal. I didn't want this. I wanted to give you information, not a burden. Just forget if you like. No worries."

„You say that, but ... ."

„I mean it."

I grab his face in a less gentle grip, rubbing my hand over one slightly scruffy cheek to soften the move.

„I know you tell the truth, Hal. You tell the truth and you feel like the rest of the world lies to you. But I'm not, not in this. I want nothing more than for you to know."

He looks at me, then down. His eyes catch on the hand still clenched around the cup.

„I need another drink." And he never, ever, has a second drink. He stands, shifting me out of the way.

I grab at him, wrapping strong hands around his arm.

„No." I say.

He turns curious eyes on me.

„No. Hal Sparrow, you will not run away from me. You will not. You want to forget? That's fine."

I take the glass from his hand, setting it on the table.

„I can help you forget."

I wind my arms around his neck in an iron grip, pressing my hips to his.

„I'm very good at helping people forget."

He hesitates one moment, and that's all I need. I am a prostitute, and I do have a great many talents at my disposal. I swoop forward pressing my lips to his as my hand snakes into his breeches.

He gasps into my mouth, following the exhalation quickly with the slightest groan, a rumble deep in his throat, eyes widening at me. I'm selfish enough with the Sparrow brothers to reserve our more intimate moments for at least marginally more private areas, ordinarily. I've caught him off guard here. I grin as I pull away to watch him, giggling at the look on his face. Any whore will tell you this is power at its finest. Reducing a ruthless, dangerous pirate to a moaning pile of mush. I quirk one eyebrow at him.

„Upstairs?"

He swallows hard and nods and I turn to lead him back toward the narrow wooden stairs. Guilt pricks at me. I'll find a way to make it up to him.

Out to sea it may plague him, but he's here now. And I will find a way, if it takes all of my fairly considerable talent.


	3. We All Grow

_**Note: **Now this is a couple of years later, after the flogging Hal survived, and after the events depicted in Honor Bright. Hal doesn't spend much time in the Caribbean but rather going after his pirate work in Indonesia. Still, he returns to Tortuga every few years to pay Diamond a visit._

**Chapter 3**

**We all grow**

Blessed be the streets of Tortuga. I have been to many places, but coming here always feels like coming ... well, not home, but it certainly feels like coming to the pirate capital of the world. I smile on that, and salute a couple of girls who are waving to me from a balcony.

I don't come here often since I went separate ways from Jack, got my own ship, the Black Lotus, and my own lot of scars to bear. Although these scars are well tended for by my Maori first mate, who is a magician with tattooing.

I do have this feeling. I haven't seen the Black Pearl, but … there are sparrows around, somewhere. Have to be. I haven't seen Jack in a while, and I certainly hadn't counted on being in the Caribbean. But it would be nice, nice to see him. Well … I'll try to find diamonds first, before I look out for pearls.

Just upon thinking this, a group of girls is dashing by, chatting. They cannot be older than seven or eight. Nothing so surprising about that, but what does catch my attention is the necklace one of them is wearing. Because the pendant, I know it. I know it because I stole it myself, a while ago. Stole it while I was still with Jack.

"You, lass! Wait!" I follow her and reach out for her arm, when she spins around to sparkle at me with eyes so soft and deep, and for a moment, she knocks the wind out of my sails. I realize that involuntarily, I hold my breath. Blue eyes, and I think I have Maggie looking at me. But after a blink and a gasp, I see it is not her. The eyes are caramel. Like Jack's maybe. The girl could be Maggie's sister, though. I smile on that, and drop to a knee beside her.

"Will you tell me, Milady, who gave you that charm?"

"No."

"Not even when I tell you that I already know Jack Sparrow gave it to you?"

"It's Captain Jack Sparrow, and if you already know that, why do you ask?"

I smile on that, too.

"Because I have given that pendant to Jack myself a while ago, and if he gave it to you, he knows you well, and if you know him well, you can maybe tell me if he is around."

"Why would I tell you?"

"Because I am his brother."

I think she is holding her breath for a very short moment, before she says: "If you are his brother, why don't you know where he is yourself?"

Ah. Not easily convinced, are you, Milady. "Because I haven't seen him in a while."

"Can you prove it?"

"Prove what? That I am his brother?" She nods. I ponder on that. "Well … I have the same tattoo." And I roll up the sleeve to show her the sparrow tattoo on the inner side of my lower arm.

She studies it. "Anybody could have that. And it's not exactly the same."

I sigh. "Oh, well … . What do you think about this, he keeps a copy of the Holy Bible in his cabin, because his father gave that one to him. It sits right next to the Kama Sutra." Ah, now I got you wondering. "How about that, if you know where he is, will you tell him for me that Hal would very much like to see him?"

A little hesitantly, she nods. I smile at her brightly, and bow a namasté to her, my folded hands touching my forehead lightly. She runs off, and I straighten myself.

Now, who is she, and why am I not feeling good about this.

Anyway, I enter the Dancing Maiden with easy steps. I can still feel the ship rocking beneath me, but just a little. Diamond is behind the bar, but when she sees me she puts the mug in her hand down onto the wood with a loud clonk.

"By all that's holy, now look who we got here!"

My hands waving widely, I bow to her. She comes to meet me, and hugs me tightly. Then she holds me in her outstretched arms to turn me and look at me.

"Captain Hal Sparrow, fresh out of the Malayan Archipelago I assume?"

I plant a kiss on both her hands.

"All the way through the Pacific, straight to Tortuga. Without looking right or left, into your arms."

"Just as I would expect."

I reach into my pocket and bring forth a little package. "And I brought you something. I saw it on you when I happened upon it."

With one hand, I cover her eyes while I step behind her, to lay the cool stones onto her skin. Then I remove my hand from her eyes and close the necklace in her neck. She looks down and gasps.

"My, that is beautiful. Are those emeralds?"

"The purest ones I could find. Well, the only ones. And they do look absolutely gorgeous on you."

And if she doesn't like them, she will be able to get some money for them at least. I wave to the bartender.

"Drinks for the ladies, mate." And shove some gold coins across the counter.

"And for our dear Captain Sparrow," Di adds, "A glass of … what was that awful spirit you were drinking all the time?"

"Absinthe."

"Ah, yes, that one. Well, a glass of awful spirit for this scourge of the high seas here."

Then, she wraps an arm around me and presses her hips to mine, while she is swaying in her walk. We retreat to a table in the back.

"Is Jack here?"

"He is."

"Good. I miss him."

"He misses you too." I smile on that. Feels good to hear that. But I know. He tells me in my dreams.

"Diamond, tell me, who is that little girl with the flaming hair? She is wearing a trinket that Jack owns."

"That is Pearl, sweetheart. The child I told you about."

Pearl? Can't be. She told me about her, years ago. Told me because this one was either Jack's child, or mine. My own. That's why she is named Pearl. The women in Diamond's family always bear the names of jewels. And this child also bears the name of the ship her father sailed in on.

"That is Pearl? She grew so much."

"Well, we all grow, Hal. Even you do." She giggles. "But I have to admit it doesn't do you much harm, does it?" She reaches out and strokes the skin on my cheek.

"Ah, I will always be seventeen." I cup her hand in mine, and kiss it softly.

On that, she laughs out loud. "But Hal, you've never been seventeen. You were probably born a hundred years old!"

There's a smile on my lips, but it may be a wry one. I am not sure. So I keep staring into the buoyant green in my glass. Feel the delicate softness of the cool liquid turning hot on my tongue, smoldering down my throat.

Yeah, I was … probably … born an old man.

I shake my head, to scatter the dark clouds closing in around me.

"Now, what is she up to, your daughter?"

Diamond throws me a glance. "Well, it seems like your dearest brother Jack has set his mind on taking our daughter with him out to sea."

My head darts forward on that.

"He has WHAT?"

"He's gonna make her pirate. He took her in, he'll care for her."

I keep staring into her eyes. Can't be. Not Jack. This is not like him.

"Is that so." I'm not sure, am I wondering or stating.

Well, that is so, apparently.

"Captain Sparrow! I take great pleasure in seeing you!"

"Same on this side, Captain Sparrow!"

I bow to Jack, and he salutes me. Then, with two quick steps, I am in front of him, embracing him tightly. He takes my head in his hands and kisses both my cheeks.

"Zounds, Hal, those tattoos grow more and more on you. These savages on your crew do you no good." He chuckles, and plants one last kiss on my forehead.

"Jack, I want to talk to you."

"What is it, tell me."

"Not here. I need quiet for this."

"By all means, are you getting married?"

"No, I am not. Please Jack, I am serious about this."


	4. Deep Chocolate instead

_**Note:** A chapter by Marvel._

**Chapter 4**

Deep Chocolate instead 

I'm seven, crouched outside one of the upstairs bedrooms of the Dancing Maiden. As a resident myself I know a thing or two about sneaking around to overhear things. I've sold more pirate's secrets than most cabin boys over the years. It's a profitable business.

Jack is inside, and that's reason enough for me to be here. The fact is, I'm smitten with him. It seems to be a talent he has with women. But I have more right than most. He's my father. He's claimed me as his own, given me his last name. It's the first time in generations beyond count a woman in my family has received her father's rightful name.

He's going to take me out of here. Away from the endless future of selling my soul one piece at a time, of rotting away of some stinking disease and sitting always on the edge of starvation, of birthing daughters bound to the same fate. Women have died for this opportunity. Have died for the meanest possibility, however unlikely.

He's taking me to the sea. The endless ocean that calls me. It's like the novels the tavern owner reads. I'll be like the women in those stories, brave and proud.

Well, life isn't like the stories. Jack's told me. It will be hard work. I'll get ill and tired. But I don't care. I'll work hard as I have to. Harder. If I take ill and die the first day it will be worth it.

The reason I'm taking special interest in the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow tonight is the man with him. The scarred man who accosted me on the street. My uncle, or so Jack says.

There's something I don't like about him. The way he looks at me. Like I'm competition. As if he'd shrug me off first opportunity he gets. I don't trust him, instinctively. Mama always said never go to a room with a man you don't trust on sight. Sometimes instinct's all as keeps you alive, and the alley's far harder to kill you in.

They're in the room together now, and I want to know what they're talking about. I slip closer, crawling on the ground like a worm. The floor boards creak, but if you lay down and distribute your weight they only give slightly.

"Jack, have you lost your mind?" The man's voice is harsh. He's trying to keep it low and yell at the same time. I smirk. I know what the answer to that will be.

"Years ago, mate. I'm surprised you didn't notice."

"Jack, could you please be serious for five minutes? A woman on a ship is dangerous. But a girl? Seven years old? That's just plain foolish. Just remember what you've seen happening to girls on ships in our life!"

I clench my fists, finger nails drawing blood on my palms.

"I'm no fool," Jack says, voice studiously calm. He's been insulted.

"You're doing a fair impression."

"You'd be amazed what the girl can do, Hal. She can handle a sword if she must. She's amazing with those daggers of hers. And her mind, Hal. She's a genius. And she's eager to learn. She's obviously blood. I can't leave her to rot here."

"A pirate ship, any ship, is no place for a sweet young thing." My hand grips one of my many hidden daggers. I should kill him now. If it weren't for Jack's love for him ... .

"She's been raised by a Tortuga harlot, Hal. By Diamond. She's anything but sweet and innocent. And Tortuga's no place for a child to grow up either. I can protect her on the ship."

"Not all the time. You can't, Jack. And I don't need to remind you that there are men that would get as many ideas around a seven-year-old as an adult, and could do her far more harm. It isn't fair to her, what you're doing."

"And what would be fair? To leave her here, crush her dreams, forget about my own daughter?"

"You know that she's not yours."

"No, she's yours. But I don't see you volunteering."

I'm hardly surprised by this. Honestly, the idea entered my head the moment I learned who he really was. I'm not worried about it. Jack's taken me in. I have no need of him.

There's a tense moment, a beat between them. "Jack, Diamond was a prostitute. Services rendered, services paid for. What she does with children is her business. She'd not have it if she didn't want it. I was given no such choice. I can't offer a child a father. I don't want the responsibility, because I have no way to offer her better."

"So turning your back on her is better?"

He sighs heavily. "I'm not saying that. Take her where she can be looked after. You know we have friends who would take her in. Nobles even."

"That child is no noble, and never will be. They'd beat it out of her, or society would. Her genius would be ruined."

Short silence.

"A convent then."

Jack laughs at that, loud and deep. "My daughter? A nun?"

"Convents are fair places, Jack. They're dry, and warm. Clean. She'd be well fed, and loved. Educated, probably. Cared for properly."

A nun? My head is spinning. Me? A nun. I should kill him now.

"She loves the sea, Hal. It's the place for her. You should understand that."

My hand aches from clutching the dagger so tightly. I draw it, counting on the weight to calm my nerves. I forget about my numb fingers. The dagger slips. I attempt to catch it but my fingers won't cooperate. It clatters across the floor.

I hear the sound of naked feet on the floor, the clear ringing of a sword drawn. No time to run.

I lunge toward the dagger, closer to the door. I snatch it up, and turn just in time to catch Hal's decending sword. With both my hands I turn the dagger in an arch, pushing the sword away and settling back into a defensive pose. He pulls back as well.

"Hal!" Jack cries, running up behind him with that dizzying walk of his. "Pearl! You're supposed to be in bed."

I shrug, not breaking my pose.

"Hal, put it away," Jack orders. "Pretty impressive for a seven-year-old, isn't she. As for you, little one, you're supposed to be in bed. We set sail early tomorrow. I'd suggest you get to it."

I shrug again, eyes cutting toward the man who is sheathing that odd curved Asian sword.

Jack draws close. Takes a knee before me. "He's not changing my mind, luv. Not in a million years. You set sail with me tomorrow morning. Savvy?" He grins.

The devil can't be this charming. If he is the world is doomed. God will surrender the throne willingly.

I nod. "Yes Captain." That makes him grin.

I turn without looking at the other man, taking the stairs up to the next floor to my room. As I fit the key in the lock I hear steps on the stairs. I turn to find Hal there. I glare at him, putting hands on my hips. "What now? Come to suggest I take an oath of celibacy now?"

"No," he answers as if I were serious. I snort. "I wanted to apologize. If I had known you were listening I wouldn't have-"

"Spoken your true feelings?" I suggest. I look into his eyes. Deep chocolate instead of the lighter caramel of Jack's. Darker than the eyes I see in the mirror. Please, let Jack be my father. I don't have any way of knowing, and Jack's doing everything that matters, but please ... .

"Spoken so bluntly," he corrects.

I wave a hand. "Semantics. You would have been playing games. And I'm bloody glad you didn't know I was there. Better I know you for what you are now."

"Better you know the future ahead of you," he says.

"I know the future ahead of me if I stay here," I answer. "That's more than enough."

He nods. "You're angry. You have every right to be."

"I don't need your permission to be angry!" I snap.

"I understand, and for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I wish I could be the sort of father for you Jack is. That doesn't change the fact that I can't, and I don't believe this is the best path for you."

"It doesn't change the fact that my path is my own to chose," I answer. "And for what it's worth, I'll never trust you again. I see you for what you are, whether your brother does or not." I twist the key in the lock, swiftly enter my room, and slam the door in his face. Then I throw myself onto the bed and weep. I weep for lost trust, and fear, and opportunities I'm holding to with both hands, and fear for the future, and love of my father. Whoever he may be.


	5. Delicate, almost

_**Note:** This is about a year later, when the Sparrow brothers meet in Tortuga again. Pearl is already sailing with Jack._

**Chapter 5**

**Delicate, almost**

I lean onto the rail and watch the sea playing with the Pearl's bow. Rub my eye slowly. God I am so tired. We're at anchor somewhere off Tortuga, ready to set sail. I sigh. They will set sail. The Pearl's crew and Jack. Captain Jack Sparrow, and he will leave me behind once again. No mind you he never left you behind. You left.

Although you wanted to stay. You have your own life, your own crew, your own ship. It's a good ship. The Black Lotus to meet the Black Pearl. She is out there waiting for you. Why are you still here, Captain Sparrow? That is not my name, that is his name. But it is you, don't you see. You are Captain Hal Sparrow. Have been for so many years. I am that man? How did that happen.

I tilt my head lightly to hear the bones in my neck crack. I lay my cold hands onto my own shoulders to put some pressure on the pain. God my whole back is stiff. I need to rest. I can't remember how many days and nights I haven't found sleep. I'm beginning to see things that are not there. And I am cold all the time. I pull my black coat tighter around my chest. Cough. And wince at the dull pain inside. There must be another broken rib in there. I thought I had come out fairly unscathed of the last battle. I didn't feel the pain until now. But sometimes I think I lost the ability to feel. I reach between the coat and the shirt, try to find where the rip did break. Breathe in and out to feel my chest heave. I am getting old. Old and brittle. No, wait. I have always been old. And … tired. Maybe … maybe I can just sit down here for a while.

I draw the blade, for no reason at all. Watch it shine in the moonlight. Feel the weight in my hands. Assume position. Hear it move, cut through the air. Sheath it. Kneel, in the proper pose, in the triangle the bow of the Pearl forms, and draw it again seated. But I don't move. No, just not now. I can just sit here for a while. I lay the blade onto my palms and raise it towards the moon, with a light bow. Will you bless us once again? I haven't prayed in years. I never really prayed. I never really understood the reasons for this, not in the Dojo in Japan, kneeling in front of the shrine, not after. I said the sutra I never really understood. I heard the words flow from my mouth regulating my breath. Ma ka han ja na ra ma ta shin gjo. And on and on through the whole piece. They said it was for breathing exercise mainly. I never cared about what I said, although I knew the words by heart. Now, I ask you for good fortune. If there is such a thing. I need it, I am becoming wary. I am scared too much. Scared of things that are not there. Bless the katana at least, sometimes I think it is the only thing keeping me sane. I bring the sword closer to my face. And wrap my fingers around it. Feel the edge cut into my skin. I can't feel the pain. I feel nothing. I can't feel myself. I am not sure if I am still there. I am numb. I lay the blade down in front of me and put my hands to the floor in front of my knees. Palms on the planks. My index fingers and thumbs forming a triangle. I bow to the blade until my forehead almost touches the back of my hands.

When I sit up again, I assume the position I was in for so many years in the dojo, kneeling on my calves and heels, very still, and then lay my hands in my lap, left hand on right hand, cupped lightly. Maybe I can just sit here for a while. Maybe someone comes to bless me. Bless the katana. I should have sheathed the blade again. The master will not be happy. Not supposed to sit around here with the blade lying on the deck where it doesn't belong, and sit with your back straight. Can you still feel your feet? Does it hurt? It does. You may cross your feet if the pain becomes too much. No, never. Up, up with the head, like someone pulls you upwards by a thread. I smile, a noose maybe. No noose, a thread. You form a perfect S with your spine. Who taught you to move? Can't you stand straight? You swing the Bokken like someone trying to catch a fly. I want a sword, not a stick of wood. To swing it around like a little girl would swing a scarf when dancing? No unnecessary moves I told you. But I just move like that. But that is not proper movement. Is my head falling forward, chin meeting my chest?

Am I sleeping?

Suddenly, I feel movement behind my back. My hands reach for the blade that is not there because it is on the planks in front of me. I startle, and jump half to my feet, to turn around. There is a knife in front of my face, and I feel a sudden flash of pain running up to my cheek from my mouth. Pain. I can feel the pain. I am so amazed. It never crosses my mind to reach for the cutlass on my right side. The katana is not there and I am unarmed therefore. I push the attacker away, trying to punch him with my elbow. I hear a shriek, and someone falls onto his back. I reach forward and grab hold of the sword on the deck, turn and raise my hands with it. And on her back before me is Pearl, the girl, Jack's girl, my girl, whoever's, she is there and I punched her. Is she bleeding?

I am bleeding, I sense the coppery taste in my mouth. She cut me. Why did she cut me?

"Why did you cut me?"

"I didn't mean to cut you!" She's on her feet in one swift motion. "I just wanted to scare you, putting the knife to your throat, that's all. Just a game."

"Scare me?" What the hell?

"Who could count on you to try to punch my teeth out!"

"Scare me!" You scared the hell out of me. This could have ended worse than with bruises, and a cut on my face. Cut. Pain. Delicate, almost. I can feel it.

"You scared the hell out of me!" I didn't mean to scream that. You are still standing with the katana raised. I am? Yes, you are. I'm sorry. I lower the sword.

"Please don't do this, don't do this. I could have hurt you."

"Well, but so could I! I almost cut your throat."

Maybe she wanted to do that for real. God she hates me. Do I hate her? I wish none of that had happened. None of that at all. None of what? Her cutting you, or her being born? Just nothing.

I stare at the small person down on the deck. I cannot handle this. And I run, sword in hand.


	6. A Woman Scorned

_**Note:** A chapter by Marvel. This is a couple of years later when Pearl has been sailing with Jack for some time. She is about 14 here._

Chapter 5 A Woman Scorned 

Pearl awoke in the gentle way she'd become accustomed to in the last month since agreeing to take on the night shift. Without her father snoring next to her, or rolling her out of bed depending upon his state of wakefulness, and with the whole bed to herself, she had the leisure to just lay a few moments in the gentle sheets and enjoy the gentle rolling of the sea.

The open window to her right painted orange light across the far wall as sunset crept into the room. Jack generally called the night crew on around an hour after dark, sending the day crew scurrying to the mess for their supper and rum where they would spend the evening plotting how best to spend their booty and boasting over which Tortuga harlot they would employ.

Pearl chuckled, avoiding putting on her boots long enough to sit in the window seat and enjoy the colors around her for a few moments. Her mother figured in those discussions often enough. Not that it bothered her, and she did have a grudging respect for the crew (with the possible exception of the two with a fondness for calling her 'poppet') but when it came down to it she preferred the open night air and the dark deck with only the scant night crew around her.

Out of habit she reached out with her internal sight, a maternal gift in her family, running a hand over the air flows stirring above her and the rather more predictable shifts of water below. The wind was against them, had been for nigh unto a fortnight, but the current was with them. Without her steady hand, leaving the mere mortals to navigate by compass as best they could, they had drifted from the strongest of the liquid pull. She could feel it, twisting off to the east. She could ease them back into it without effort through the night. It was yet another reason she preferred the night shift-it was an opportunity to wrest the wheel from her father's overly protective grip.

Something caught at her awareness as soon as she was satisfied that there was little possibility of a storm descending on them through the night. A slight pull in the sea off the port side of the ship. She had no view of that side from her current position. She further examined the disturbance as she pulled on her boots. Reading the flows was more work than she generally let on, the smaller the disturbance the harder to see, and her brain was only starting to wake. It was a small tug, something she felt more in the movements of the ship than the actual sea-motion itself. She wrinkled her nose. It felt almost like a ship following them, but if they were about to be attacked or go on a raid she would have been sent for, and the cannons certainly would have woken her. All remained silent around her. Couldn't be a ship.

The smallest ripples she had ever felt were created by a group of sharks going mad in chummed water. But Jack didn't dispose of crew that way, as some did, and certainly nothing should be chumming the water. The sharks weren't vicious enough to randomly attack any men who fell overboard and Cookie didn't slaughter animals on the ship.

She scratched at the back of her neck as she moved toward the door. It was a mosquito bite in the back of her brain now, that disturbance. A school of dolphins perhaps? A whale? That was less than likely, but she couldn't think of any other causes.

Her stomach growled loudly as she moved into the hall. She glanced up at the deck. The view afforded her only a look at the starboard side of the ship. She considered going up on deck to see if she could see the problem. If the rudder had broken loose, or an anchor slipped perhaps ... no, she dismissed those ideas. Jack knew the ship and would never allow such a thing to happen.

Deciding it was no big thing, and certainly not worth risking loosing the opportunity to eat, she stayed below, moving toward the mess. Cookie was used to her turning up hungry before her shift, and often saved a morsel or two for her.

She heard voices as she approached the mess, and paused. The night crew generally ate before taking the shift, but they didn't often beet her to it. Jack would not approve of a crewmember sneaking off to munch. Was someone ill?

As she drew closer she recognized one of the voices as Jack's. Well, at least no one was avoiding their responsibilities, she reflected as she drew closer. The second voice sounded vaguely familiar. It wasn't Barbossa – he should have been at the helm anyway if Jack were below. Bootstrap was the only other crewman she could think of Jack would be chatting so familiarly with. She smiled, a new spring in her step.

She liked Bill, had since she was a young thing despite the fact that he seemed to believe she was his daughter. A poor substitute for the son he had left in England, she didn't doubt. Truth be told she didn't mind overly much. Whatever she might say she still liked being coddled now and again. Thirteen may have been plenty grown up, but she was still aware that she was also plenty young.

She moved easily into Cookie's domain, and stopped when she pushed open the door.

Both men turned, one to smile, the other to nod at her. Jack's grin was positively evil. Next to him, instead of Bill's smooth hair and fairly well-kept clothes, sat the man she liked considerably less despite his truer claim to coddle her. Her true father, the man she referred to as Uncle, sat resplendent as ever with his plaited hair lined with beads – the same sort she had in her own hair – and his bare back showing off the ink buried under the skin.

The odd current made sense now. His ship had to be riding next to them, disturbing the waves just enough to incite her awareness. She kicked herself for not considering that. Hal came around so seldom it simply hadn't occurred to her.

"Hello Hal," she greeted coldly, sweeping past the table they sat at to call for Cookie.

"Sit," Cookie called from the kitchen. "I'll have it for you in a minute."

Pearl sighed, resigning herself to sitting across from the two men. Just a touch of nervousness appeared in Hal's remaining eye, a frown tugging down a corner of his mouth, elongating the scar she had given him some five years before, while he was turning the glass in his hands.

Jack ignored the tension as only Jack could.

"Any storms coming up on us?"

Pearl shook her head. "Not through the night, anyway. I don't like the looks of a disturbance to the north, but we're too far yet for me to tell you anything specific. Ask me tomorrow morning." She reached up to sweep her hair out of her face, fingering the cool beads before sequestering the mutinous locks behind her ear.

"So, Hal, aren't you impressed with how my own lovely daughter has grown?" Jack asked. Pearl nearly winced. She had no doubt Jack knew exactly how uncomfortable that line of conversation made both parties. He simply didn't care.

"She looks very much like her mother," Hal commented a Cookie dropped a plate before her. "Although I must say much of her good looks seems to have come from her father."

She coughed as the ham she'd begun to gnaw on lodged itself in her throat. Jack agreed, grinning as he heard nothing but a compliment in the words. Pearl glared at her uncle. She didn't appreciate jokes at Jack's expense, even when he was too ignorant to recognize it as such, much less the reminder that the less pleasant of the two brothers, in her opinion, happened to be her father.

Hal chewed a bit at the rings in his lips. She considered for just a moment that he hadn't meant the comment as an insult to Jack, but dismissed it. Any opportunity he had to one-up her she had no doubt he would take.

"You all right, luv?" Jack asked as she chewed at the gristle she'd managed to dislodge from her throat.

"I seem to have lost my appetite," she answered, tossing down the food. "I should go check on that storm. I'll get the rundown from Barbossa." She paused to throw a sickly sweet grin at Hal. "So you may just enjoy our company."

She paused outside the door long enough to hear Hal sigh heavily. "Brother, she really doesn't like me."

She could hear Jack's dismissive shrug in his voice. "You know what they say, a woman scorned."

"I never did anything to scorn her, wilfully," Hal objected.

She nearly snorted, but decided instead to preserve her current station as eavesdropper instead.

Jack laughed shortly. "A little advice for you, little brother. Easy as it is to forget, deep down inside, beneath the pirate, she's a woman. She doesn't need a reason to dislike you. Look at me. Slapped from one side of Tortuga to the other. But they always come back, bless their hearts."

"Your daughter is no harlot, Jack."

Jack shrugged again. "You might be surprised."

Pearl shook her head, taking a bite of the ham she had spirited away with her. That man was impossible. Both of them where.

-

Pearl sat tailor-style on the box in front of the Black Pearl's wheel, her eyes closed, the compass open behind her. She was aware of her uncle, standing on the stairs looking at her. Did he suspect she had fallen asleep? She hoped desperately that he knew better than that. Jack would never leave someone at the wheel as would fall asleep on the job.

She waited patiently. For him to take the hint and return to the cabin or come closer. Which did she prefer? For him to go. Certainly. That was the smart move. Less likely to start a fight that would leave him bleeding again.

But he didn't move. Just stood there, watching her. She certainly couldn't be that interesting. What did he see?

He had to be comparing her to the girl he knew five years ago. She mentally compared the reflection in the mirror to what she remembered of herself at seven. The biggest change was in the clothing. Skirts were a thing of the past for her. She nearly smiled, remembering her joy when she first discovered the movement men's clothes gave her, but remembered herself at the last moment and kept any reaction from her face.

She had grown, certainly, reaching what she feared was the extent of her height. Taller than her mother by a few inches she had drawn exactly even with Jack. It had helped fill out her body as well, the rest of her catching up with her comically long limbs that had given her a coltish look. The hard work of a ship had lined them with firm muscles, helping further dispel the image. Her bust had filled out, remaining fairly petite to match her body as she ate up any stored fat on muscle. Her mother would disapprove, just in case something happened that threw her back into her Tortuga's business of choice for women, but in all she was just as glad not to have them in her way. Her freckles had faded away under a hard-earned tan. She hoped they weren't returning as she took her set of night shifts. Her long full hair had been cut boyishly short, probably her greatest regret, and filled with jangling beads. Did he approve, she wondered?

Still he didn't move. He just stood there. It was interesting, as she cast about to feel the winds, how mobile her senses made him seen as he stood perfectly still. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but her preoccupation kept pulling her away from the storm she monitored to focus on him. The simple rush of his breathing, some sort of bizarre hurricane, wind rushing out only to be sucked back in. The brine in his veins circulating just the way the tides did. And yet the shell of his skin didn't move an inch.

Finally she gave up the pretence as lost. "Did you mother never tell you its impolite to stare?" She didn't look at him, remained perfectly still herself, and fought irritation as she sensed a smile on his lips. Did he feel he had won, getting her to speak first?

"If she did I don't recall." He moved at last, standing next to her and look out over the ship. She opened one eye to glance up at him, but looked away when she met his, allowing her concentration to slip and both eyes open.

"You can't sleep?"

"Not used to Jack's snoring anymore."

"You could have returned to your ship." She could still feel the ripple of their wake, behind them now.

He didn't look back. "I prefer to spend the time with Jack."

Pearl made a non-committal sound of agreement. Reaching behind herself she removed the looped rope from the wheel, shifting it just a bit to the left. Moving the ship move in line with the pull of the flow beneath them.

Hal glanced over her shoulder at the compass she still couldn't see. She kept it there for Jack's sake. Something he insisted on so he could know which direction they were going despite her less rational style of navigation. It made him feel better, he said, although he trusted her.

The needle rested in a random setting, somewhere two tick marks short of east, a heading few could follow.

He gave her a curious look, asking without accusing (without saying a word, in fact) if they were off course.

"This way's faster," she answered.

"If you say so," he said, still no accusation in his voice.

"Your navigator will be able to follow?" she asked, careful to be equally respectful by making it a pure question.

"Amad should manage."

She nodded. Firmly back in the stream she preferred she straightened the wheel again and returned the rope to its place. "How long do you intend to stay with us?"

He shrugged. "Long as it feels right."

She rolled her eyes and snorted. "Specific as always."

"Do you prefer specificity?" he asked.

"I prefer precision."

"Your course would suggest otherwise."

She glared at him, met his mild gaze and turned away. "I dislike surprises. Having to plan around sudden changes of course."

"Being around Jack I would have expected you to pick that sort of thing up along the way."

"Being able to do it and seeking it out are two very different things. I am not my father." She winced as she said it. Her fault, bringing up a subject she had intended to completely avoid.

"You most certainly are not," he agreed mildly, his voice betraying none of his thoughts. He paused to look over the ship along with her. "Why have we never gotten on, Pearl?"

She shrugged, glanced up at him as if searching for the answer he wanted. "We got off to a rather poor start. I cut you open the first time we met."

"I don't believe you recall the first time we met," he said. "You were young. Two or three, perhaps. I'm a poor judge of age in children."

One corner of her mouth drew up in a familiar smirk. "If we're counting times I don't recall, it could be argued that you were inside my mother the first time we met."

She grinned fully as she saw his eye widen marginally. 'Score,' she congratulated herself.

"That was below the belt," he informed her, something like disapproval in his voice.

"Literaly." She couldn't help but giggle.

He shook his head, but chuckled a little himself. Then, he reached up to trace the scar she had given him. "I don't hold a grudge over this."

"Most men would."

"I do not."

"I'm not certain I believe you."

"To believe me or not is your choice."

The smile had disappeared from her face. "I am aware of that."

They lapsed into silence again for a moment. "I never seem to know the proper thing to say around you."

"I'm not certain there is a proper thing to say around me," she answered. "In fact, I'm fairly certain there isn't."

"That would put me at a distinct disadvantage then."

"So it would seem." She chuckled. "Does that make me cruel?"

"No," he smiled, "Try harder." Then, he looked at her oddly for a moment.

"Yes?" she asked.

"It's nothing. You just reminded me of someone for a moment."

"Who?"

"A woman I used to know. A girl, technically. It's unimportant." He sighed deeply. "I should return to bed. I believe I would prefer to be asleep just now."

"I wish you luck," she called over her shoulder. She closed her eyes again, uncomfortably aware that he paused to look at her one final time before returning to Jack.


	7. Just Some Unfortunate Soul

_**Note:** Another jump forward in time, this is about three years later. Hal is bargaining with another pirate captain on the man's ship._

**Chapter 7**

**Just Some Unfortunate Soul**

"So, what say you?" I smile at him brightly, before I take another sip of rum.

"Well, it is tempting. I'll have to talk to the men about it. I'll send you word tomorrow."

"I'll be around." I get up from the seat, and Brendon rises as well to accompany me back to deck. One of my rings must have slipped, because suddenly, jangling, it falls to the floor. I bend, to pick it up, when a faint glitter catches my eye. In a crack between the planks, there's a charm. And it looks familiar. I slip the ring back onto my finger and pick up the little trinket. Hold out my hand, and there it is, very small and fragile, on my palm. I show it to the Captain, I have to concentrate hard, and still my voice is trembling.

"Where did you get that?" I look at it, look at him, and back at the charm.

He sizes the little thing up, showing hardly any recognition. Then, his eyes light up a little. "Ah, that. I picked up some pretty harlot in Tortuga. She wore it."

My head is full of thoughts in an instant. This is one of the same trinkets I'm wearing. Jack has them, too, as well as Maggie and Pearl. A harlot, in Tortuga, he said. Pearl visits Tortuga frequently, and all in skirts. He might have taken her for a prostitute, especially around Diamond. Maggie could be anywhere, pretending to be anything. Neither of them would have given this away freely. But I have this feeling. Bad feeling. Pearl. I don't know why. Pearl. The trinket lies on my hand, and I realize my hand is shaking. Small, and shiny. Pearl. This is not good.

"You picked her up, you said?" I gulp, and forcibly soften my tone. "Is she still here?"

"Aye, she was a little unpleasant. I had to teach her some manners, if you understand what I mean." He laughs, a husky sound. I laugh, too, and close my fist tight around the charm. I need to know. This whole thing worries me. A lot.

"I believe I know that wench. Red hair, caramel eyes? Small of build, but a wiry figure?"

"That could be her. Why do you ask?" He is getting suspicious. But so am I.

"Ah, I was with her, a while ago. But she stole my bag during the night. When I tried to hold her, she gave me this." I point to a scar that runs from my lip up the cheek. "Very unpleasant woman. I should like to say I am anxious to meet her again."

"Well," there's the husky laughter again, "That can be arranged. I have her in my brig."

He turns and gestures for me to follow him. For some seconds, I keep staring at his back, listening to the beating of my heart that is pounding against my chest.

And he takes me down, down into the ship. Down deeper, into the dark. The descent numbs my senses, a little bit as if it takes me away from the real world, I'm not sure why. I feel my feet wary under me. This seems to be another world. But it is just … another ship. He opens a hatch for me, and I step inside. Water encloses my bare feet up to my ankles. The water is not exactly cold. It's not warm either. Damp air hits me like a blow. Takes my breath, for an instant. My eyelids flicker, and I suck in air through my mouth, involuntarily. The taste on my tongue makes me gag. Darkness all around, it takes my eye a while to adjust. Then, I see her. A small female figure, crouched in a corner. Her arms are chained to the wall. Can't be Pearl. I can't even imagine a chest she couldn't pick the lock on with naught but the nail on her thumb. This can impossibly be Jack's daughter, the infamous Pearl Sparrow, unless blood loss and fever ... . No. This is just some unfortunate soul I don't know.

Brendon approaches her.

"Come here and have a closer look." He makes an inviting gesture.

I hesitate. There's still a chance to go and never think about this again. I don't have to help this girl. Even if it is Pearl. I owe nothing to her, she can take care of herself. Turn, and leave. Set sail, and off.

"Ah, not to worry. She's still alive, but she won't be able to do much harm anymore."

Whoever this is. She is badly hurt. He flogged her. Her back is covered in dried up blood. Dark cuts crisscrossing on pale skin. I feel my jaw trembling, and my stomach is growing cold. I have some clear memories of leather against skin. I remember the heat. I remember the pain. I remember the fear. Shame, sweat, blood and tears. I turn my head to the left, focusing on her with my right eye. I straighten myself and realize I'm leaning backwards even. I'm ready to run, or so I figure. And I have started chewing on my tongue. My skin is prickling. My hands shove the sleeves of my shirt upward, and I begin to run my fingers over the scars on my lower arms. Are they always this hot?

I wade slowly through the shallow water. Almost reach her, get down on my knees, to cover the last bit of the distance. The smell. The smell is bad. Foul smell. Vomit, and excrements. I try to breathe trough my mouth, but it doesn't help.

"How long has she been down here?"

"Coupla days." Brendon answers. "Don't fear, she's still alive. Hardly, but it's still an accomplishment, all things considered."

Good Lord. My hands let go of my arms. I reach out for her. Touch the skin of her shoulder. Dried blood on open skin. The cuts are hard with scabs. Skin is clammy to the touch. She sweats, and she is way too hot. There's a fever inside her.

Remember. Cramps. The bones in my hand cracking with the pressure. Fingernails digging into palm. The heat of the dislocated shoulder. I flinch. God, get a grip. This is not about you. Who is she. Can't be Pearl. This is not like Pearl.

I move my shoulders backwards, feel the vertebrae in my spine snap. I don't want to look.

Quickly throw a glance at Brendon. He's ogling us. Go away.

On this, all of a sudden a crewman clambers down the stairs. "Captain, sorry to interrupt. We need you just a moment."

"Problem?" Bootleg stops grinning down at his handiwork on the floor to look at the crewman.

"Fleet fell from the mast. He's pretty banged up. There's talk of heading to port for a doctor."

Bootleg sighs heavily. "Sorry about this, Captain."

"No worries," I answer.

"You look her over. Find me when you've decided, if I don't find you."

He leaves. Then, and I'm not sure how I managed, I have my hands under her chin. Move her head slowly into the faint light. My breath has stopped. I'm chewing on the rings in my lower lip now. A small piece of tooth breaks.

Covered with dirt, there is the face of a beautiful girl, with high cheekbones and soft lips now shaded black with dried blood and filth, and white with skin that is peeling. Her nose seems a little bit too large, and it bears a hook from breaks. It's her. Pearl. It can't be. No.

I raise my hand for my fingers to ghost over the unbroken skin of her cheek. There is blood on her face, but it doesn't come from flogging wounds there. So at least her face and front are untouched. Her back only. Bad enough, but I thank God for this. Was he by some perverted notion trying not to destroy all of her beauty? Her back she can hide quite easily … angrily I remove my fingers from my face where they were tracing scars on my chin and running from my cheekbone to my ear. I don't have to hide.

I brush a strand of hair out of her face. Sweet Pearl. How on earth did this happen to you?

Pearl. I mouth her name. She doesn't stir, but the way breath flows in and out of her is changing. I recognize all too well the studious stillness of a body used to waking to pain and learning how best to limit it.

She tries to open her lids, but dried blood holds her eyelashes closed. She blinks, and succeeds in breaking the grip on her right eye, but the left remains shut, forcing her to find an unsteady focus through the cloud of lashes. The caramel orb seems almost luminescent in the darkness.

Then I see dry lips moving. A hardly audible word, and I don't understand her at first. Then, I realize, she said a name.

"Jack?" A smile finds its way across my face. She thinks I'm Jack. Her voice, rough and hardly more than a whisper, hurts my soul. My, she bears both the names Siren and Sparrow, and I know in her is a voice that does these names more than justice. She needs to drink, I need to cool down her fever.

"Jack. I knew you'd come. I'm safe."

Ah, he would have come, darling. No doubt he is desperate looking for you. I just got here first.

Softly, I correct her: "Hal." And quickly put my finger onto her lips when I see she wants to say some more.

"Hal?" she continues despite this, and I see in her weary gaze that she is searching for the information to go with the name. "Hal," she finally matches man and memory.

Although it must hurt her, she moves to reach for my hand, to cover mine with hers. I sit still, on realizing she is actually touching me to convince herself I am real, here in the flesh, not a fever dream. Hallucinations, I remember these, too. My, she is hot. The fever has been burning deep inside her for a while.

Brendon comes back, and Pearl's grip around my fingers tightens just a little. I turn to meet him. I need to get her out of this quickly.

"What do you want for her? I have to have her."

"Well …" he sizes me up. It takes him a little. "This is a very pretty sword you're carrying. Is it Asian?"

"It is a Samurai's blade. A Japanese sword smith made it for me. You won't find a better one, unless it was in the hands of a dead Samurai." I undo the belt that holds the sword. I am afraid to give it away, but I need to get her out of here right now. It's an awkward feeling to see him drawing my katana.

"Now open those chains." I demand, my voice trembling slightly.

When he undoes them, Pearl winces away from him, and I feel the need to hold her. But then, I believe I hear Pearl hiss. Yes, she is whispering. "I'll harm you," she vows, very sincere, and very calm for Pearl, not to mention Pearl in that situation. "If it's the last thing I do, you'll bleed across my boots." On that, she collapses into my lap. I stroke her hair softly. My, this girl is tough as nails. I would never have spoken up to Corr when he flogged me. I was too busy not to spit my lungs out screaming. I can't believe this. Can't believe this is her. It must be some sort of a weird dream.

I look at her, curled and naked in my lap. She is my child, my blood, my daughter. Good God. I have never been there for her. I feel the need to cover her, he shall not see her like this. What has he done to her?

Quickly, I get out of my shirt, to wrap her in it. Immediately, blood soaks the fair linen. I reach under her, to pick her up. She gives off a moan, and I feel her hands clawing into my arms. Fingernails buried in flesh, yes, I remember that. The nails so deep inside my flesh she draws blood. Now, more fresh blood, hers intermingling with mine, oozing warm onto my hands. I'm opening up her back. Aye, some memory of that, too.

When I straighten myself, the skin over my shoulders stretches, and for a short second, I think there's blood running down my back. There isn't. Instead, there's Pearl's violated body in my arms, her left hand finding its way up to my neck. I quickly pass by Brendon.

"Have fun!" He wants to slap my back, but I shy away to escape the touch.

Hold on, Pearl Sparrow. I feel the need to hold her tighter. Her face lies buried in my skin. Her shallow breath passing over me. I seek to cover as much of her as possible with the shirt. s' all right. I have you now.

Hurry back to the Black Lotus. I carry her as steadily as I am able, across the board set up between ships. A short leap that sends a shiver through her, and back I am on my own deck. She doesn't move the whole time, her breathing studiously even. In that moment, she looks very much like a child to me, although she is well in her teens. My, I missed all her childhood. I wasn't there. I'll never have the chance again.

The crew looks at me astonished. I'm usually not the type to rescue damsels in turmoil.

"Amad, a basin of water, to my cabin."

"Fresh," Pearl wheezes out.

"Fresh water, Amad." I put in as an afterthought. My head is swimming. We have no fresh water, but he will do his best, I know. Red is beginning to tinge the edge of my sight.

In my quarters, I put her carefully onto the bed. It is fresh, and clean, as I am never sleeping in it. Amad does, from time to time. Hammock. I prefer that. Never got used to beds. I always wondered why I felt the need to keep it. Now I know why, because Pearl will need it for the next couple of weeks. My head is already busy planning her stay. We'll need to bring her somewhere safe. Jack must not see her. It would kill him, it would kill Pearl. To see her like this, to have him see her like this. Weak. Bloody. … dying. I wonder, will she be able to live with me seeing her like this.

The dog comes over to look and sniff.

"Don't come too near. She's hurt." I say to her. The dog places her head on the foot of the bed, to look at Pearl.

_/I know./ _the dog informs me.

I wonder, shall I turn her not to expose her back to more pressure. But I figure I'll leave her like this, enough pain for her for the moment. I'll turn her around, when I come back, to care for her. First, first I have to take care of something else.

I need my katana back.

Suddenly Pearl whispers: "We're here?"

"Welcome aboard the Black Lotus, Pearl Sparrow. We feel honored by your presence." I pull the blanket over her, cool and silken. This will comfort her. I am back on my feet, opening the little chest on the table, going through the jewelry in there. Brendon, what does suit you? Ruby, emerald … ah, wait, a black pearl will more than fit the occasion. I loosen the eye patch.

"How bad?" Pearl asks.

It takes me a moment to understand what she means, while I spit onto the jewel and stuff the huge pearl into my empty left eye socket.

I turn back to her, to throw her a confused glance. Her back, I realize.

I reach for the carved sword I keep in my cabin. The cutlass is on my belt, as always, but still my hand reaches for the empty place where it normally finds the katana. I don't like being without it.

Her back, she wants to know about the back. What shall I say to you, sweet Pearl? Your back looks like ground meat. "I couldn't quite see it in the dark. I'll have a closer look when I clean the cuts."

I make for the door.

"Where are you going?" I am almost shocked by the terror edging her voice.

"I have to have another word with Brendon."

"Don't!"

"Don't what?"

"Don't … kill him, Hal. I need to do that myself."

I am back next to the bed, down on my knees. I stroke her hair once more.

"I know." If I know anything, I know that.

A faint smile around her lips. "You do, don't you."

"I do." I stand up, and make for the door again.

"I don't want to be alone." A whisper so quiet I am not sure if I have heard it at all. But … I remember the fear. What would I have done without Jack. "There aren't any women, and I don't want to be alone with the men."

"Nobody will touch you. Nobody will dare touching you. Asides, my dog is here to guard you. Nobody will hurt you."

"You won't hurt me."

I chew on the rings in my lip once again. Not all too long, Pearl, and I will hurt you pretty badly.

Suddenly, the door opens and Amad almost runs into me. He brings a basin with water, the freshest we have, laced with rum, and a cloth. I take it from his hands, he's still surprised to have encountered me right behind the door.

"Thanks, Amad." I say softly. "Gather the men, we're going to take over Brendon's ship. Everyone but the Captain will be dead … but Bootleg is mine, exclusively."

Amad gives me an odd look. "Tiu, if I may ask-" He throws a glance at Pearl.

"She's …" I hesitate, "She's my daughter, Amad."

The look he gives me now is beyond all I have ever seen from him.

"She has been flogged. If anyone comes near her, he'll beg for death before the end. Is that clear?"

Amad nods, and turns.

I wet the cloth, to clean Pearl's face, to remove the blood clots that hold her lashes tightly.

"Thank you," she whispers. "I can't tell you, thank you."

I smile. "Nothing to thank me for. I was … just there." I trace her lips with the rag. She grabs my hand.

"Hal, I want to tell you something. I'm sorry I've been such a shit. I'm just-"

"You haven't been. I understand. You're just … not quick to trust." I smile on the rhyme.

"But I trust you. I have for years." I think my heart skips a beat on that.

"Sweet Pearl, hearing that from your lips means far more to me than anything else." I give her a smile. "Well … then, show me your back." She nods, tongue tracing dry lips, and shifts forward. When she turns her back on me, I have the courage to ask. I could just look, but I dare not. She is more a child to me, my child in fact, and I am afraid to merely touch her.

"Did they rape you?"

Short silence.

"No."

I sigh. I'm not sure if I believe that. But that is a question for another day. I'd thank God if she was spared from that at least. On that, I carefully remove the shirt from her back, and I remember the awkward feeling of fabric in freshly opened wounds. God, I remember everything so clearly as if it has been yesterday. Pain is still so recent. It is years since then. The pain is still allover me. Inside every inch of my flesh.

"Best if you stay resting on your front, and just leave these as they are." I tuck the shirt under her shoulders. Red and yellow and black oozes from the wounds. Blood, fresh and dry, and pus. So there's an infection. I'll have to remove all the scabs and scratch out everything yellow. Press until fresh blood flows. God, this is gonna hurt her so much. I hope she'll pass out. I don't have the guts to put her out.

The dog looks at me. _/Can she survive this/_ I grind my teeth. I don't know. She has lost a lot of blood, and the fever is running hot in her. I don't know.

"Not good," Pearl whispers. I sigh deeply.

"No, it is not good. But you knew that already." I carefully wipe her sides, trying to find where the marks end, how close together the lashes were. There is one cut that runs to her breast from across the right shoulder, but fortunately, the majority of the wounds seems confined to her back. The cuts are deep, though. Will have to be stitched. In some places, whole sections of skin are missing. Sweet Pearl.

I'm going to take them apart.

"I'll tend to your wounds later. There is some business to tend to first." I pull the blanket up well over her hips, careful not to touch the lowest scars. I need the blade back.

Still, she stays curled on her side. I wet her lips with water from a cup. Dab a few drops into her mouth, but I know her body won't take much more.

"I want the truth, Hal," she whispers.

"I always tell the truth, Pearl, and you know."

"No games then. Am I going to die?"

Good Christ. I don't know. It's possible. But I can't tell you that. "Not here. Not now."

"Hal." Now her caramel eyes are open, so much like Jack's, and she's piercing me with her gaze. So strong for a person so weak. "If it would be easier to just slit my throat, to throw me overboard-" On that, her voice breaks, and she struggles with her voice, swallowing down hard before she finds the sound again, even more ragged than before. "If all I have ahead of me is pain, just end it."

"Don't even think like that, Pearl Sparrow." My voice is almost angry on that. "There is much pain ahead of you. And I can't spare you. But you'll live through. I lived through worse, and I don't have your strength and your power."

"You're still playing. I'm just saying, I'd forgive you."

"Up to now, there's nothing you'd have to forgive me for. Except for all the mistakes I have made, of course." She's right, I am still playing. "Rest now. I'll be with you in an instant."

"Hal," she calls me back once again, as well as she can. I return to the bed, taking a knee. "Be careful," she orders, "I don't want Bootleg to take any more from me." I smile on that. A warm feeling in my stomach. Just some hours ago, I think she would have gutted me herself, and now she is worried about me. Sweet Pearl.

"He won't." I promise, laying a soft kiss on her forehead. She sighs, and closes her eyes. I leave, quietly, to find the men assembled on deck. The red beings creeping into my sight again.

-

The Lotus pulls up close to Brendon's ship, and with a tight grip into the ropes, I am across the gap.

My feet landing on the planks is the only sound for an instant. I stay crouched. Then I look up quickly.

Brendon's crew looks at me and I know in that moment that they know I am not back for another glass of rum.

From the crouched position, I raise my voice.

"I am Captain Hal Sparrow, and I am going to kill everyone on this ship. You tortured my daughter almost to her death, and you will pay with your life. Anyone who has a problem with that may jump overboard right now."

Pause.

Then, I leap to my feet and draw the sword. The sound is enchanting, ringing in my ears. This is a dance. I smell the bittersweet odor of fresh blood, spewn across deck. I am waltzing through a mass of twitching, jiggling bodies, and I don't care about anyone of them. Dance with me, will you. Blood clouds swirl around my head, I glide forward. Ducking, jumping, turning. Bowing and curtsying. Is there a tune in the air? I shift the sword in my hands, then, draw the cutlass. Metal cold in my fingers. Soft flesh, tissue, intestines, meeting my skin. Ah, will you join me for the dance?

And then, Brendon's head knocks backwards against the main mast.

"Captain." I ram the cutlass into the wood right next to his ear. Wipe blood from my face with my right palm, cover his face with the same hand.

"I am sorry I have left your deck in such a mess."

I bring the blade of my sword to his throat in one swift motion.

"No worries, I won't kill you. She will, and by all that is holy, she will make you beg for your life. I hope I will be there to see you. This is not my fight anymore."

I feel him shaking, anger and fear and humiliation intermingling in his glance. I stare him down. Can you see your own image in the pearl in my eye?

"Tell one of your men to fetch my sword."

He motions to a dark haired man held by some of my crew, and they disappear.

It doesn't take long. The dark haired boy hands me the blade, and when I reach for it, my sword still at Brendon's throat, he tries to draw it. I flinch. But before the whole of the blade can leave the sheath, there's a dagger through his throat, and he falls dead to his knees. One of the Lascars of my crew has finished with him quickly.

I turn back to Brendon. "Raise your hands above your head. Against the mast." When he does so, I slam a knife through both of them, fixing him to the wood.

"No worries, you'll get loose soon enough."

With that, I move to pick up my katana from the ground. Well-trained moves place it securely around my waist.

To the men: "Keep an eye on him. Don't touch him. Kill who you find living. Search the ship for goods. Amad." The Maori steps closer. "You are in charge here. I'm with the girl, if you need me." I am almost on the rail, when something reminds me of a Captain's duty. "Did we lose a lot of men?" I glance around.

Amad shakes his head. "A few."

I lay my head onto his shoulder quickly. "Well done. … well done."

And back it is again, back to the Lotus.


	8. Sketches

Chapter 8 Sketches 

She insisted on drawing me. I don't know why.

"Are you done with that sketch?" I ask her after a while when she's not been moving.

"Almost. Aye, you may move."

"Do you want to show me?"

"You can look if you want."

I move, and almost stumble over my numb foot. Look very carefully over her shoulder.

"It's beautiful." It really is. Definitely some talent there. "I love it." I look at the picture for a while, I really like it. And then I wonder … . "Did you draw me from an angle that hides the missing eye, and the worst of the scars?"

I realize I said it aloud when I see her look at me. I hadn't meant to say that aloud.

„The scar interferes with your bone structure, which really is deserving of being put to paper, and I'll draw the other side later. The scar is complex, the light from the jewel in your eye is more so, and my back still prevents me from moving my hand just the way I want. I'm starting simple."

„I … I'm sorry. I hadn't meant to say it like this." I really feel like having destroyed the magic of the moment, and so I leave for the deck.

That night, I can't sleep. I couldn't sleep most of the nights since she is here. It's not her fault. I'm restless. There's too much, too many memories, creeping back into my head. But she can't sleep when I'm not there. I understand. After a while of lying next to her, staring into the darkness, I sit up, and swing my legs out of the bed. Breathe in deeply, and lean forward, elbows on my knees. Raise my palms, to cover my face. I sigh into the cover of my hands. Feel the skin stretch over my back. God, I don't want to think about this all the time. It was fine when all of it was locked away somewhere. I don't want to remember it.

The pain. The weakness. The fear. When I couldn't even raise my head, or move my arm. When every breath I drew set my whole upper body on fire. The heat in my head. The nightmares, hallucinations. The constant thought on my mind, I'm keeping Jack from the sea. I'm keeping Jack from his life. He shouldn't be doomed to care for me. I know he hates it. Hates me for it. Hates the fact that he would rather be somewhere else, at sea, but the love for his brother keeps him ashore. If I survive this, nothing in between us will be as it once was. God … everything changed after that. Before, it was Jack and Hal, against the world. After, I was alone. I am … still … alone. Every gash across my chest, across my back, every lash curling around my shoulders, cutting through the soft flesh of my armpits, every drop of blood has brought me farther away from him, from myself.

… am I crying?

Suddenly, a hand on my back. I wipe across my face quickly with the tips of my fingers. Turning around slightly. "Did I wake you?"

"Hal, what is it?"

"It's … nothing. Nothing." Please don't let my voice break. But it breaks. "Please, Pearl, go back to sleep." I get up. "I'll see if everything is alright on deck." But she grabs my wrist when I move, straining her back. Please girl, don't move. Let me go. She looks over her shoulder lightly, onto her back still bearing the clear marks of torture.

"Is it bringing back your memories?"

I breathe out noisily. Was that a sob? I HAVE NO MEMORIES OF THAT. Leave me, leave me alone! Christ, am I crying? I am supposed to be strong, I am expected to be a father for that girl in her god-awful situation. She is the one that should be crying, not me. I feel my hand is quivering in hers. Her grip tightens.

"Let me go Pearl, please." No sound. How could I say that with absolutely no sound at all? I'm shivering allover.

She pulls me closer. I resist her.

"Come here. Come back to bed."

And suddenly there I am, on my knees in front of the bed, and I am weeping. Onto her hand, under my face, onto my hand that still clings to hers. Weeping like a child. I'm not supposed to be the child on this. Please, I'm a grown up man, I am a pirate, I am Captain Sparrow for goodness sake. I am infamous, not incontinent.

Pearl reaches for me, and tries to pull me back into the bed. When she lays her hand onto my shoulder blades, my head flies up. Don't! "Don't touch them!" Don't touch me!

I rise to my knees from my slumped position, gulp down tears. Pearl sits up. I breathe heavily.

"Please don't move, you're opening up your back." I whisper.

She reaches out, and cups my cheek with her hand. Then, she leans forward, and embraces me. Hugs me tightly. I hold my breath for a moment. Kneel with my hands still in a defensive position, against the small fragile body that is so close to me suddenly.

"Let go." She says softly.

But I can't. I don't want to. Please go away! But she stays.

And then, and it happens much quicker than I would have thought, I let go. Bury my face in her neck, and wrap my arms around her. Don't object anymore when she pulls me back into the bed. And I am crying. I am crying so much. Shrinking into her embrace. Very small, and getting smaller and smaller all the time.

And there she is. Patting my head, stroking my hair softly. Her hand lying on my skin, on my scarred flesh. And I am crying, messing up her shirt with tears and snot.

And she is just there.

After a while, tears dry up, and I breathe deeply. I can't move, I'd have to look her in the eyes. I keep my eye tightly closed, and I'm just clinging to her. Maybe we can stay like that forever. Maybe nobody will notice.

After another while, I notice, I began to whisper, merely to myself, very softly, into her shirt, her embrace.

"God, I hate him for it. That man. I won't remember the name. He's dead and rotten. But his blood is still inside me. Good Christ, don't remember the blood. Don't remember his hands. On me. Inside the cuts. The wounds. Inside my flesh. His breath on my face. His sweat, intermingling with mine. Fingers smearing salt water thick with blood over my back, over my chest, and shoulders, my breast and belly. Let me not remember. Not remember the sound of the whip. The power of the man with the cat, over me, … over me. Me, small. So small, so weak. I can do nothing about it. Metal hot with my pain, cutting into my wrists, into my ankles. Every muscle straining to support my own weight. And I fail, fail. The bones in my neck cracking with my head yanking back and forth. I can still feel the weight of him on my chest, leaning over me, overpowering me, reaching for my face. His hands on my face, holding me. The pressure on the skull, the eye. The … sound of it. And my body even too weak, too weak to scream." Then I suddenly raise my head to look at her, searching her gaze in the dark.

"I was crying and screaming all the time, Pearl, all the way through, until I lost my voice. I was so afraid of them. I was so scared to die. I was so scared to leave him … Jack. I love him so much. I wanted to save him, but I was so scared myself. And it hurt so much I thought I couldn't hold on to my own soul. But the pain was too much, too much even to pass out. And I was so ashamed I couldn't take it, couldn't take it like I should have. Like … a man?"

I close my eye, and there is a single tear, running down my cheek, all the way down, seeping into my slightly opened lips. I sense the salty taste on my tongue.

Deep sigh.


	9. No

**Chapter 9**

**No**

"Will you tell me about what happened to him?" Pearl asks.

"Whom?"

"Corr."

A single word. A name. So many memories. Aye, I met him again. Years after he had me flogged. I did. Just outside some tavern in a nameless coastal city.

- - -

He's coming really close, I can feel the heat of him. "Very well! Now look who that would be – Hal Sparrow! Long time no see!", he hisses. When the "s" passes his lips, a drop of saliva hits the skin of my cheek. "Now how's it going without that pretty eye of yours?" His nose almost touches mine. I smell his breath, and God, I do remember that breath. I feel my jaw is trembling. Shivers running down my back. My throat feels cold as stone. I'm standing with my back to the wall. Palms flat on the bricks. I'm dead scared, but I am so outraged at the same time. I want to kill him. Or just get away from him and hide. He comes even closer and his chest touches mine. He leans to my throat and sniffs. I feel his nose under my ear.

"Leave … me … alone." I bring forth from clenched teeth. He throws back his head and laughs. With a quick motion his hands are on my face, covering my cheekbones and ears, and his head comes darting forward. He licks my cheek. "And just what will you do if I don't?"

I close my eyes. I am still shivering. My hands are trembling. I hear him laugh.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I open my eye and meet his gaze.

He looks at me.

The grin fades from his face.

I thrust my hands up in between his arms on both sides of my head. Push him away hard. He stumbles backwards. Looks at me in surprise.

"You ask me what I'll do if you don't?" I tilt the heel of the katana on my belt with the left hand. The right hand wraps around it. The sound of the blade slowly emerging from the sheath is loud in my ears. I move towards him. He's bigger than me but in that moment he looks small. Backing away from me. He tumbles over a rock on the ground. Falls. I am standing very tall and in a way very remote from him suddenly, glaring down at him. Draw the katana. Raise it.

"You had better not asked."

I bring the blade down to his throat in a quick thrust.

Stop in the second the blade touches his skin. A tiny cut on his neck. His eyelids are pressed shut. After some seconds he opens them again. I move the katana away from his throat, the point of it now loosely on his chest, turn it and rest my hands on the tip of the hilt. With one foot on the rock, I look down on him. "Thought I would kill you?"

He grins at me. "For a split second, yes."

In that moment, I lean forward onto the katana and it enters his chest with a cracking sound. I bring more weight onto the hilt until the blade has passed through the whole of his body.

He's breathing heavily. I pull the sword out again.

Raise my hands with it, stand erect, assuming a perfect position, my master would be proud of me. I'm facing the two of his men that were with him. Blood is dripping down on me from the katana. They look at me and run. I lower my arms with the sword. And allow myself a slight little bit of a smile.

I kneel down next to Corr. Stroke his face that is wet with sweat. Brush his hair out of his face. "Go to sleep."

The pool of blood under him is growing very fast. I have cut his heart. I wipe blood from the blade with my hands. He looks at me. Strength is fading quickly from his eyes. I lick my fingers. The blood is bittersweet on my tongue. I can feel the power of it.

There is still some of it on my hand. With my left ring finger I draw a red line from his forehead to his chin, and from his eyes down his cheeks. He grips my wrist with his cold fingers and holds my hand on his shoulder. Just stares at me. I look back at him.

"Thank you." I say.

"… what for?"

"For reminding me of who I am."

I think he is dead before I finish the sentence.

My glance falls onto his hand on my wrist. He has a silver ring with a ruby on his index finger. I take it. It suits on my thumb. I will remember him.

Look down on him again. And suddenly I laugh. I close my eyes and laugh. Turn on my heels and just fall to the ground next to the body. Laughing until there are tears in my eye. Then I am very calm, and I just lie there breathing.

The tears cool on my cheek. The katana has dropped from my hands. There we lie, Corr, the blade, and me. Me finally again. Or me for the first time.

- - -

I look at her. You'll have to decide for yourself about what to do to your scars, and your fears. I don't want mine to be on your mind. For what was right for me might not be right for you. Or, not right now. Let it heal a bit. I won't tell you. And so I say a simple word.

"No."

Not yet.


End file.
